The Son of Evil
by PinkCookie11
Summary: Can you love the son of evil?" Sunstreaker has had his optic on Prowl for a while now; and much to his twin's dismay, he enlists Sideswipe's help in netting himself a Praxian. In attempting to catch the optic of the stoic and seemingly unflappable Second In Command however, Sunstreaker uncovers secrets that he may be unwilling to accept. Warnings inside. Bay-verse AU.


Title: The Son of Evil.

Author: PinkCookie11.

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Summary: "Can you love the son of evil?" Sunstreaker has had his optic on Prowl for a while now; and much to his twin's dismay, he enlists Sideswipe's help in netting himself a Praxian. In attempting to catch the optic of the stoic and seemingly unflappable Second In Command however, Sunstreaker uncovers secrets that he may be unwilling to accept. Warnings inside. Bay-verse AU. Transformers doesn't belong to me!

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Author's note: okay, okay, I know what you're all thinking. 'She's starting another story?' 'She's already got so many that she's not updating!' 'Why is she writing another one when she's left all her others incomplete!' 'Does this mean that she's not gonna work on her other stories?' But I just couldn't help it. The plot bunny stole my Elmo toy and wouldn't give it back 'til I agreed to write this!

Don't worry, I have every intention of continuing all my other fics ... I'll just be writing this one as well. *Sighs in resignation* If I haven't learned yet not to over-multitask ... then I probably never will.

The characters could possibly end up being a little OOC, Sorry.

This will be a little darker than my other stories. And I haven't yet decided if it should be smut or not. Guess I'll leave that up to my reviewers.

Hope you all enjoy and please review!

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Warning: slash, implied/mentioned mech preg and abuse, possible violence/torture and swearing, maybe some smut later on. Don't like, don't read. And don't bother flaming, you'll be ignored.

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Disclaimer: I've just been given the news ... that Transformers ... is in fact, Hasbro's ... and does not; and never has ... belonged to me. ... *Sobs* my whole life has been a lie!

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Thoughts: [...]

Com-link: /.../

Bond-speech: :...:

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Prologue: Unwanted.

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The tall, gunmetal grey mech paused in the darkened alley. Almost doubling over in pain, he rested one hand upon his swollen abdominal plating and gave a low hiss.

[Not yet. Not here.]

It couldn't happen here.

The pain gradually subsided and the mech shakily straitened to his full height. Carefully picking his way out of the dingy, litter filled; and most likely glitch-mouse infested alley, he turned and once more gazed with loathing at the bright and cheerful city lights spread out below him.

How he hated Praxus.

Once, not so long ago, he had loved Praxus. It had been his favourite place on all of Cybertron. It had been home. But now, if somebody were to burn it to the ground, he would simply stand side by side with the bot responsible and watch it go up in flames.

Snarling as another, more insistent flash of agony shot through him, the mech reluctantly continued his stumbling pace as he headed for the dim, solitary light in the distance that was his intended destination.

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Finally reaching the decaying rec of a building that had once been a house, the tall mech was greeted at the door by another, smaller bot.

"There you are!" The smaller cried, catching his taller companion by an elbow as the mech stumbled. "I was beginning to wonder if you-"

"Shut up your idiotic babbling and help me inside!" The grey mech snapped, growling as the contractions grew in intensity and frequency. "Did you get a medic?"

"Of course." Was the somewhat offended reply. "Here he is now." He added as yet another bot appeared from the house and ducked under the tall mech's arm, in order to support him.

Leaning heavily on the bot on either side of him, the tall grey mech slowly shuffled his way into the crumbling building. Instantly their olfactory senses were assaulted with the sickening odour of corroding mettle. Rust covered every single surface within optical range; and the air positively rang with the sounds of odd little clicks and squeaks, accompanied by loud rustling.

"Turbo-rabbits, I believe." The medic shrugged in response to the silently asked question.

Steering their little group towards the middle of the room, he assisted the grey mech on to the medical berth waiting for him, saying as he did so,

"Right. Up on the berth and I'll take a closer look at you."

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The night was short, but it seemed to last an eternity for the three mechs that waited for it to end. The grey mech on the berth punctuated the still air with many highly colourful curses. And the occasional detailed description of what he planned to do to the medic the very moment he was able to stand, thrown in for good measure.

The medic studiously ignored his patient's harshly vented threats and instead focused on his progress. Their other companion restlessly paced the length and width of the small, cramped cabin. Back, Forwards. Back, forwards. Around the berth, over to the door. Back, forwards. Around; and around again.

At last, as the sun's rays tentatively began to peak over the edge of the horizon, the little room was suddenly filled with a high-pitched, static-laced crying.

The tall grey mech vented heavily with exhaustion. Cycling his optics, he dispassionately scrutinised the tiny, frail, trembling bundle that the medic was holding out to him. Tears of distress poured down the delicate looking sparkling's cheeks as his carrier examined every inch of his little body. Optics narrowing at the sight of the small, quivering winglets gracing the sparkling's back; the grey mech felt the stirrings of anger and bitter hatred beginning to simmer within his spark.

"Get it out of my sight."

The medic exchanged a curious glance with the third bot in the room, who had finally halted his nervous pacing; and was leaning against the opposite wall, hands on hips.

"I fragging mean it." The taller mech growled, vocaliser low and threatening. "Get it the frell away from me before I tear your slagging optics from your sorry face-plates!"

The rage boiled in his energon-lines until the mech felt as though he would explode from the force of suppressing it. Abruptly shoving himself up off the berth, the mech gripped his shorter companion and practically flung him out of his way before storming outside.

The loud, frightened wails of his sparkling pursued him as he turned his back on the ruin and simply walked away, but this only served to anger him further.

... He should have known.

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Author's note: ... Well? You like? You dislike? Got any suggestions for me? Should I continue? Or should I set aside the proverbial pen forevermore?

Let me know either way!

Can you guess who our 'tall grey' friend is?

And what about the poor little sparkling?

Please R and R guys.

'Cookie'


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